


Mistletoe

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-20
Updated: 2003-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25783150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Ron runs an errand in Diagon Alley.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 5





	Mistletoe

Quite exactly how the twins had talked him into it, Ron was later never able to adequately explain; yet, somehow, here he was: scurrying down Knockturn Alley in the middle of the day where anyone and everyone could see him, clutching a brown paper bag to his chest and attempting to look innocent in a somewhat suspicious manner. He also wasn't too sure what was in the bag; Mr. Borgin had taken one look at him, declared "Weasley" with a wet flick of his tongue and far too much emphasis on the first syllable, tossed the package at Ron and then practically kicked him out of the shop. The bag twitched. Ron was trying very hard not to think about that; trying so hard, in fact, that he wasn't paying any attention to where he was going and his first clue the witch was there was when she yelped in pain.  
  
"Look where you're goin'!"  
  
"Nothing!" squeaked Ron, clutching the bag tighter and promptly regretting it as it began tapping against his chest. "I mean, sorry!"  
  
The witch, an old, gnarled woman, fixed him with a black, beady, appraising stare. "Lost, are you, dearie?"  
  
"What? No! Shopping," said Ron, waving the bag. "Okay, thanks, bye."  
  
He took a step and the witch slid casually back into his way, her face twisting into a strangle wrinkle of a thing that might have been a smile or the first stage of abrupt decomposition.  
  
"Shopping, is it, dear?"  
  
"Er," managed Ron, attempts to back away being thwarted by the general lack of space in the narrow alleyway.  
  
"If you're looking for a bargain--" the witch did something complicated that left her hands holding a tray filled with all kind of interesting monstrosities, "--you've come to the right place, ducks."  
  
"I--"  
  
"What'll it be? Bottled glory? Stoppered death? Despair philtre?"  
  
"I'm really not looking for--"  
  
"Oh, got something specific in mind, eh?" The witch cackled, winking and nudging Ron with a sharp, bony elbow. "Something for the ladies?" She waggled her eyebrows at him.  
  
"No, I--"  
  
"Oh, the gents, then," said the witch, fiddling in her robes. "Funny you should mention it, special offer, today only, I just happen to have here the fingernails of hanged men, very useful in lust potions, only seven sickles an ounce."  
  
As she pulled out a handful and waved them in Ron's face, there came a pleasant jangling sound from right behind them and someone said, in a vague, dreamy voice, "Although some people try to pass off Wurgleblatter Toenails instead, which look the same and are a lot cheaper but nowhere near as effective, of course."  
  
Both the witch and Ron turned to look at the newcomer whose large, pale eyes were staring somewhere in the vicinity of Ron's ear while her fingers were idly pulling long strands of dirty blonde hair together and tying knots in them. She was wearing a white t-shirt over her black robes on which was inscribed "Stubby Boardman Lives!" in large purple letters and when she moved, the small glass and crystal bells hanging from her fingers and ears tinkled.  
  
"My dad's thinking of doing a series of articles about it. Hello, Ronald," the girl added. "Nice day, isn't it?"  
  
"Luna! My good friend Luna," exclaimed Ron, hooking his elbow around hers. "With who I will be now going. Away."  
  
Ron pulled Luna around the corner, the witch calling "I have dried Thestral wings, only a galleon a bushel" after them, and proceeded to stride down streets at random, Luna half running to stay on her feet, until he'd put what he considered a safe distance between them, and then collapsed against the handy wall of a nearby Apothecary.  
  
"I'm never coming down here again," he declared loudly to no-one in particular, then ducked his head, blushing slightly, as passing pedestrians short him quizzical gazes. He turned back to Luna, who was still breathing hard, and scratched sheepishly at the back on his neck. "Sorry about that."  
  
"It's okay," said Luna. "Exercise keeps... the body... healthy..." She took a deep breath and let it out, adding, "and also helps dispel the Antipathos jinx."  
  
"...Right." Ron frowned. "What were you doing down Knockturn Alley, anyway?"  
  
"Bringing my dad our holiday snaps." At his blank look, she continued, " _The Quibbler_ 's offices are just off there. It helps my dad save on the rent and it keeps him close to the pulse of the--"  
  
She broke off and Ron ducked as something brown and moving at high speed whizzed past overhead.  
  
"What the--?"  
  
"It looked like a Hoolock to me," said Luna, calmly peering after it. "Possibly a Lesser Stippled Hoolock; did you see the colour of its wingtips?"  
  
"Don't let it get away!" cried someone behind them, and they turned to see a group of people charging down the road, carrying nets and hooks and, in one particular case, a large beaver and some soap.  
  
Run dropped his bag and grabbed Luna instead, pulling her out of the way of the jostling crowd, turning so the runners bounced off his shoulder and stumbled past them down the street.  
  
"Watch it!" Ron yelled after them but not one gave any indication of hearing. "Mad. Hey," he added, turning back to Luna, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Oh, yes," breathed Luna, eyes wide and gazing up at him. "Good save. You're a very good Keeper, you know."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, yes, everyone says so," smiled Luna, adding in a vague sort of voice, "I went to all your matches."  
  
"Oh," said Ron, somewhat absurdly pleased by this. He realised he was still holding onto Luna but as she didn't seem to mind, he left his hands where they were. Looking around to check the street was safe, he noticed the Apothecary had hung herbs out to dry. Directly overhead were large bundles of small white berries.  
  
"That's mistletoe," said Ron.  
  
He looked back at Luna who was chewing on a strand of hair and murmuring a wordless agreement.  
  
"You know," said Ron, leaning in, "under the mistletoe," and in, tilting her back just a little, brushing the hair free, "it's traditional", and in, close enough for his words to brush her lips, "for two people to--"  
  
Without warning, a dozen small, green, and spiny somethings landed on his head and shoulders, pulling and biting at his hair and giving off shrill squeals, sending Ron staggering and cursing up the street, trying desperately to shake off the tiny, persistent creatures.  
  
"Huh," said Luna. "Nargles."  
  
Picking up the twins' bag, she wandered after Ron, whistling 'Weasley is our King' to the bright accompaniment of the bells that jangled with every step.


End file.
